by Bobby Akart
Every day, thousands of refugees poured into Turkey, ultimately landing in the migrant camps, although the exact number was unknown. The vast majority of refugees crossed the border from Syria into Turkey under cover of darkness and undocumented. And so did the ISIS operatives.
“Look at this place,” said Sayid Ismat to his brother Adnan. The two soldiers of the Islamic State entered with their team of five through Syria’s North Aleppo Province. “You can’t tell the difference between this camp and a toilet.”
The men glanced inside the concrete buildings, where tents were set up using dusty carpets draped over haphazardly positioned metal rods. This warehouse was located in a small farming village on the outskirts of the Turkish coastal city of Izmir. Over two thousand refugees lived here and spent long hours in the nearby fields as farmhands. All were waiting for their ticket to be punched to a better life in Europe and beyond.
“It’s either this or enjoy the bombs from the American planes raining on their heads,” said Adnan. He wrapped his shemagh around his mouth and nose to avoid the stench of a latrine located in between the buildings. In early July, the heat was inescapable, and the creeping odor of the unsanitary conditions filled the air.
The men came upon a group of Syrian women gathered around a lone spigot of running water in the center of the encampment. Flies swarmed greedily around a ball of dough one of the women was preparing for bread. Two young boys raced by, kicking a soccer ball. A third, who was not paying attention, crashed into Adnan.
“Hey, boy, be careful!” Adnan brushed himself off and quickly felt for his weapon under his loosely fitting clothing. He also readjusted the hidden pouches wrapped around his waist.
The men continued to walk through, drawing the attention of the primarily elderly women who performed the mundane tasks of maintaining the camp until the migrant workers returned just before dark.
“Soon, under Erdogan’s orders, they will be released,” Sayid said as he gestured for the men to stop under the shade of several large olive trees. Olives are praised in the Quran for their health benefits. “Like these olives, we will bathe and nourish them with the love of Allah. In a week’s time, they will take their leave and enter Europe with a gift for infidels around the world.”
“Al-hamdu lillah.” Praise be to God.
Chapter 25
Day Nine
CDC Emergency Operations Center
Atlanta
It was early in the morning, just a few hours after the CDC’s Guatemala unit had phoned in the news that the boy who discovered the bodies had returned to his village and then vanished. Their investigative team had located the village, where they found several sick locals exhibiting signs of the plague.
The CDC’s Emergency Operations Center was buzzing with activity. Just like a police officer experienced an adrenaline rush associated with being in the middle of a dangerous pursuit, the disease detectives at the CDC were amped up by the prospect of an outbreak of a rare disease with an historical past.
“This is not the kind of news I wanted to hear from Lawrence Brown,” admitted Janie. She continued to study the email received from the CEFO stationed in Guatemala.
Mac focused on the map of the Laguna del Tigre National Park region of Northwest Guatemala. The initial hot zone was identified with a red circle while the second village was marked with a blue X. “This place isn’t on the map.”
“I know, Mac. None of them are, which is why it’s been so difficult to locate the young man’s whereabouts.”
Mac used her ballpoint pen as a ruler to gauge the distance from the first village to the location where the boy lived. It was approximately ten miles.
“Do we know whether he made any other stops along the way? I mean, there doesn’t appear to be a road, much less any more villages.”
“We’re not certain, obviously, because the boy is gone. But based upon the interviews conducted with the few survivors, there is no indication that he did.”
Mac reached for the email and read it again. “Do we have any updates on this? There’s not much to go on other than nine deceased, twenty-seven exhibiting symptoms, and the boy is missing yet again.”
“I did speak with Lawrence just before you called us in,” started Janie. “He said one of the deceased women was the boy’s mother. The other patients are random adults and children in the village.”
“Janie, do we have a name for our young man?”
“Fernando.”
“Okay, does anyone know where Fernando went? I mean, this kid has become pretty elusive.”
Janie twisted the map on the conference table so that she could get her bearings straight. She reached for Mac’s pen. “May I?”
“Sure.”
“According to Lawrence, Fernando was seen in the center of the village, holding a mochila, a type of backpack, looking for his mother. When he didn’t see her, the villagers stated he returned to his home.”
“The mother’s dead?” asked Mac.
“Yeah. She was dead when our team arrived.”
Mac stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Fernando probably contracts the disease thirteen days ago, then returns to his village. We arrive on the scene of the first village nine days ago to a population of all dead bodies. Twelve days after Fernando returns to his village, his mother dies first, and he departs for some unknown location. He must be on the brink of death.”
“Yes, if the twelve-day infection-to-demise time frame is accurate,” said Janie. “He is, or at least was, a healthy young man. It could be that his body’s stamina was greater than his mother’s in warding off the symptoms.”
“Of the other villagers exhibiting symptoms, what do we know about them?”
“Various ages and genders. Initial symptoms include headaches, fever, chills, weakness, some nausea—you know, the same symptoms that millions of people experience every day associated with the common cold and flu.”
Mac turned her attention to the rest of the room as laptop computer screens were powered up and real-time maps were shown on the large television monitors mounted on the wall. She contemplated the magnitude of the information provided by Janie.
This disease was spreading and they had a highly contagious carrier who was wandering to some unknown destination. Logic told Mac that he was going to seek help, which from studying the map, was El Naranjo, where the initial autopsies were performed. She would instruct CDC-Guatemala to distribute alerts to apprehend Fernando and quarantine him immediately.
“Okay, let’s get started,” said Mac to the group as they took up their positions around the conference table, which seated a dozen epidemiologists, laboratorians, and logistics personnel. Their assistants lined the room in another dozen chairs, prepared to take notes on this deadly outbreak. The majority of those present were part of the EIS in the midst of their two-year training program.
Just as Mac was about to address the group, Janie’s cell phone produced an audible ding, indicating that she’d received a new text message. She leaned into Mac and whispered, “We have a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Another one of the villagers is missing. It’s Fernando’s brother, Enrique.”
“Was he exhibiting symptoms?” asked Mac.
“We don’t know, but the two boys slept in the same room together.”
Mac rubbed her temple as an anxiety-induced headache took hold. She looked at Janie and said, “Whoever said sometimes things have to get worse before they get better was full of crap.”
For the next hour, the entire team shared their knowledge of pneumonic plague and the situation that presented itself in Guatemala. It was agreed that the isolated nature of these villages was a plus in that the inhabitants were not mobile and had little social contact with other villages or towns. In most other instances, her concerns would be for the infected individuals boarding planes, trains, and automobiles, zipping from country to country, traversing the world, carrying a deadly plague. At least their al
erts could be limited to Northwest Guatemala.
On the other hand, it presented a challenge to the CDC’s usual first line of defense—containment. Between the two missing brothers and the large population of spider monkeys in the region, the probability that this contagion could spread outside of the containment area was high.
She would leave the matter of containment to the Guatemalan office of the CDC and the local authorities. She would have to speak with Baggett and her bosses about notifying the World Health Organization. But first, she needed to draft a team for deployment to Guatemala in order to learn more about this disease. Now they had live patients to study.
“Obviously, our first step in dealing with any deadly virus, bacterium, or pathogen is containment. We have boots on the ground in Guatemala to effectuate that purpose. It’s going to be our job to learn about this disease from the people who are still alive to tell their story. Direct interviews and information gathering is critical to learning more about this strain and how to approach our response.”
“What do you need from us?” asked one of the EIS officers at the rear of the room.
“I need to put together a team who are willing to travel to Guatemala. This is not glamorous duty, folks. In many respects, it’s worse than West Africa. There are no hotels, no running water, and no restaurants. There is, however, the opportunity to study one of the rarest and deadliest contagious bacterial diseases in the history of the planet. There are risks, as you know, because the only known cure for pneumonic plague is a blast of antibiotics. You’ll all need to be careful out there.”
“How many of us do you need?” asked Janie.
Mac recalled the number of EIS officers utilized in the West Africa outbreak of Ebola. The disease detectives had been sent into the region to track down infected patients’ possible contacts. Mac and two members of the team would enter a village that had had two of its residents die. As a result, nearly two hundred people had been added to their contact list that day.
She didn’t think this outbreak warranted more than a dozen on the ground because of the remote location. As was true in West Africa, these diseases typically started in relatively remote locations. If the team could get in place quickly, the chance of spreading to a more populated town or transportation hub lessened and the ability to contain the pathogen would be more effective.
The other variable in terms of deployment was time. In order to fully resolve an outbreak, the team might need to be in place for weeks, if not months. That required a herculean effort on the part of the EIS officers with family commitments. She decided to pad her numbers in case of attrition.
“At least fifteen. So, how many of you are in?”
Two dozen hands rose into the air without hesitation. Basically, everyone in the room.
Chapter 26
Day Ten
DTRA
Fort Belvoir, Virginia
Hunter felt like a new man. The soreness was wearing off from his Hollywood-style stunt in Trinidad. But the visions of the biolab and the woman holding the detonator still haunted him. When the Project Artemis team was called into the operations room for a briefing, he jumped at the opportunity to wipe his mind clean of Port of Spain with a renewed focus on another mission.
“They say in Greece, wise men speak and fools decide,” said Jablonik as he entered the room, quickly stifling the chatter amongst the DTRA operators.
“Are you feeling philosophical today, Chief?” asked Hunter.
“No, not really, but considering the challenges facing the Greek government, they don’t need any more problems added to their series of bad choices made in recent years. Their debt has skyrocketed, the unemployed outnumber the employed, and they engage in a constant war of words with their European neighbors.”
“What’s the latest?” Hunter asked.
Jablonik fired up a PowerPoint presentation prepared by one of his aides on the wall-mounted monitor. A map of the region was immediately displayed.
“This map depicts ISIS cells located throughout the region. The numbers shown in boxes are small cells created over a year ago. The numbers on the Greek mainland stretching toward the borders with Albania and Bulgaria are established cells formed within the last twelve months.”
“They’ve been busy,” said Khan from the back of the room.
“Indeed,” said Jablonik. He used a pointer to illustrate the strategic importance of Greece in the war on terror. “Greece has found itself at an unwitting crossroads—both for jihadists trying to reach Iraq and Syria from Europe as well as those infiltrating the wave of refugees fleeing Syria via Turkey.”
Hunter sat up in his chair and studied the map. “Look at the amount of shoreline they have and the close proximity to Western Turkey. We think we’ve got problems along our southern border.”
“Our intelligence shows that Abdel-hamid Abaaoud, a well-known jihadist of Belgian descent, traveled from Syria to Greece recently. Shortly thereafter, the terrorist chatter within the country exploded.”
“What about the Greek border guards? Aren’t they attempting to control the influx?” asked Khan.
“They’re overwhelmed,” replied Jablonik. “They did detain a nineteen-year-old French national who had a USB stick in his possession with bomb-making instructions included.”
Jablonik returned his attention back to the map.
“What’s unknown is how many jihadists are traveling individually, in either direction, and how does this support network play a role.”
Hunter look puzzled. “Chief, typically Greece hasn’t been a target of the terrorists’ ire. Isn’t the country more of a gateway into Europe and a convenient stopover for the operatives as they return home?”
“That’s correct. The large immigrant communities throughout Greece, particularly in Athens, which are associated with the numbers shown on the map, willingly supply jihadists with housing and protection.”
“How extensive is it?” asked Hunter.
“ISIS is establishing logistical, recruitment, and financial cells throughout the Greek Isles and the mainland. The network is used in part to facilitate the travel of the growing number of fighters between Syria and Europe, but also to produce and disseminate weapons for their attacks.”
“What do you mean produce?” asked Hunter.
“Bomb-making?” queried Khan.
“The Greek National Intelligence Service has provided us evidence that ISIS is trying to add biological weapons to their armaments.”
The room erupted into muffled chatter. Hunter’s mind flashed to Trinidad and then to Guatemala. Is there a connection?
“Come on, people. This shouldn’t come as anything new to anybody. We’ve always known that these scumbags can buy what they can’t create on their own. Just last year, an ISIS operative was caught in Paris with a rudimentary bomb full of anthrax. Granted, this bomb was crude, but it was intended to be deadly.”
“Al-Qaeda has experimented in biological weapons for years,” added Hunter. “It’s as old as civilization.”
Jablonik continued. “We know that bioterror’s unique capacity for gradual destruction is already attractive to any group attempting to sow the maximum amount of fear and chaos. Clearly, ISIS is not afraid of the political risk of causing widespread death. Unlike Assad in Syria, there is no external pressure that can be placed on their leadership.”
Hunter continued to connect the dots. “Despite having a defined hierarchy, ISIS has the type of decentralized structure that allows them to operate in secrecy, even from each other. A weapon of mass destruction, including bioterror alternatives, is actually more dangerous in the hands of terrorists than a rogue nation like Iran or North Korea. A nation-state may produce such weapons as a bargaining chip, or out of some need to create a strategic balance of power, but it’s unlikely they would initiate a biological weapon attack.”
“Hunter is correct,” said Jablonik. “Terrorists have no need for the nuances of politics. Of late, they make their statements by doi
ng, not threatening.”
Chapter 27
Day Eleven
Port of Spain, Trinidad
Mac disembarked from the CDC jet and turned her face to the hot sun with her eyes closed. For a brief moment, she envisioned herself as a high-flying heiress traveling to an exotic locale for a day of shopping and cocktails. The sound of a man calling her name reminded Mac that dead bodies awaited her.
Mac stepped onto the tarmac and waved at a smiling Dr. Sterling Roshan, the chief medical officer of Trinidad and Tobago.
“Greetings, Dr. Hagan. So good of you to come and assist us. Are you in the military?”
Mac was a lieutenant commander in the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, which was a part of the United States Public Health Service. As part of the seven uniformed services, which included the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, Coast Guard, and NOAA, Mac was afforded a rank and a title. On official visits that didn’t involve fieldwork, she wore her dress whites in the summer. When conducting investigations at a hot zone, she’d wear her service khakis. The uniforms, similar to those worn by naval officers, were intended to inspire pride and respect for their country and the important work that these health care professionals did for the CDC.
“Thank you for contacting the CDC,” replied Mac, ignoring his question about her uniform. She followed Dr. Roshan through the entrance to the airport without attempting to shout a conversation over the active tarmac.
The hallways were lined with the blue and white uniformed officers of the Ministry of National Security. The country had put enhanced security measures into place in light of the destruction of the terrorist bomb-making facility. The official word was that the explosives had been detonated by accident through the carelessness of the terrorists. There was no mention of American involvement—sanctioned or otherwise.
